The Golds' Re-Wedding
by darcyfarrow
Summary: For @a-monthly-rumbelling. When his parents decide to renew their wedding vows, Gideon is determined that the day will go perfectly. He enlists help from an unlikely source.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N. For a-monthly-rumbelling, may I present a three-story series of fluff, sentiment and comedy. His parents are planning to renew their wedding vows; Gideon is determined the day will go perfectly. Rated K.**_

* * *

"What's that circle represent?"

"Hmm?" Concentrating on the bell pepper she was slicing, Belle didn't dare look up, lest her knife slip. She'd had too many kitchen accidents to allow distractions to interfere with safety.

"That one." Gideon pointed at a red, otherwise unidentified, circle drawn around a date on the calendar. "May 11." From the corner of his eye, Gid noticed a shy but satisfied smile appear on his father's lips. He'd come to recognize that smile, over the ten months he'd lived in peace and quiet and steadily growing affection in his parents' house. Gid had come to call that embarrassed little smile of his father's "the Belle Grin," because it popped up whenever Rumple was thinking romantic thoughts (there was another smile, a crooked one that was accompanied by red in the cheeks, that Gid had learned meant it was best to give his parents privacy). Whenever the Belle Grin appeared, Gid could easily prod a story from his father, one that made the three-hundred-year old sorcerer sound like a teenager besotted with his first crush.

"May 11," his parents said simultaneously, then they flashed quick grins at each other before Belle returned her attention to the pepper and Rumple returned his to the tomato he was chopping.

Gid suggested, "Okay, let's have it."

Rumple submerged the Belle Grin long enough to put on the Father Face. "First, did you finish setting the table?"

Gid gave him the Put Upon Son Face. "Yes, Dad."

"And squeezed the oranges?"

"Yes, Dad." He held up a hand in a stop sign. " _And_ buttered the toast and cracked the eggs. So: the May 11 story."

Satisfied that his son's chores were finished, Rumple began the tale. "May 11 was the day your mother and I married. Ten p.m., Sunday, May 11, 2014, to be precise."

"Ohhh." This was going to be a good one. Gid settled onto a barstool and poured himself a glass of orange juice. "Why ten p.m.? Don't most people get married in the daytime?"

Belle shrugged. "We're not most people."

Gid lifted his shoulders in a shrug that mirrored hers. "That goes without saying."

"I wanted a moonlight ceremony, in the woods. It seemed more romantic. More mysterious."

"Of course." Gid had figured that out about his mother, early on: she adored a mystery, whether it was something as trivial as a riddle or as complex as her husband.

"At the well," Rumple added.

"Yes. We married at the well." Belle didn't have to explain what "the well" was: she'd referred to it often enough in other stories. "Archie officiated."

"Your grandfather walked your mom down the aisle. So to speak." Rumple tried to be generous whenever he referred or spoke to Moe; Gid had been told enough of their history to understand that it took major effort for either man to express kindness toward the other, and he appreciated the fact that the men were trying, for Gid's sake.

"We wrote our own vows. I remember every word." Belle set her knife down and recited her own vows, leaving it to Rumple to recite his.

"Wow." Gid had to clear his throat. "Wish I could've been there to see it."

"Maybe you could," Belle said thoughtfully, and Rumple caught on right away: "That's a good idea, Belle." He lowered his head, busying himself with scooping tomato bits into a bowl. He was ashamed, Gid realized; he was remembering all the wrongs he'd done, before and after the wedding. Though his family had forgiven him a dozen times over, he was still struggling to put the past behind him. "I'd like to do that," Rumple said softly. "Give you the wedding you deserve."

"I wouldn't change a thing," Belle insisted. "We wouldn't be who we are now." Gid understood that her reassurance wasn't about just the wedding; she meant her entire past with Rumple.

They'd come to this same resolution when they'd discussed the possibility of reversing Gid's age. Though he would have loved to experience a childhood with his parents, Gid had come to the conclusion that he liked the man he'd become, despite the torment the Black Fairy had put him through. Though he could see some disappointment in his mother's face, and he regretted denying her the chance to hold her newborn, as Nature had granted her the right to, Gid had made the difficult decision to decline his father's offer to magically regress him to infancy.

"Well, perhaps this time you'd like a cake and punch and a few guests," Rumple suggested.

Belle considered. "A little music and dancing would be nice. But still, at ten o'clock, at the well." She waggled her finger at her son. "The pan's hot enough. Bring the eggs over, Giddy. It's omelet time." She cocked her head at Rumple. "You know, I would like to have a maid of honor this time."

"And a best man." Rumple winked at Gid. "You look sharp in Armani, my boy."

"Sure thing, Dad. I'd be honored." As Gid poured the eggs into the skillet, he made a silent vow to himself and his parents: as best man, he'd made certain their re-wedding day would be perfect. Even if he had to put every troublemaker in town under a sleeping curse.

* * *

Though it had been nearly a year, the town remembered the Hooded One full well. They'd come to know him since then as a playful and naive young man, with his mother's inquisitiveness and his father's persistence, and whenever he appeared in Granny's for a hamburger, or the park for a ride on the swing, they'd greet him warmly and ask "How's it going" as if he'd lived in Storybrooke all his life. But they did remember. . . .

So when he popped into the sheriff's office, his hands folded before him, peering steadily at Emma and Hook, and he spoke their names in a quiet but firm tone, Emma shuddered, remembering the Hooded One had once threatened to kill her, and Hook murmured, "By Poseidon's beard, lad, when you do that you look just like your father. Give or take two feet in height."

Gid ignored the implied insult. "May 11."

"What's May 11?" Emma asked.

"My parents have a celebration planned, a very special celebration. I don't want it interrupted. So whatever car-upending giants or ice-casting sorceresses or heart-stealing witches appear, you deal with them. You have magic enough, Ms. Jones, to dispatch whatever threats come along, and you know your way around the library well enough to research your own questions, Captain Jones. And if you and your parents can't handle it alone, call Regina. Leave my parents out of it."

"Lad's inherited his father's bossiness," Hook muttered.

As the Joneses' eyebrows drew down, Gid backpedaled, calling to mind the manners Belle had so carefully been teaching him. "Let me start over again. On May 11, my folks are having a special celebration. It would mean a lot to them, and I'd take it as a personal favor, if you'd help me to make sure we're not interrupted that day. Please."

The Joneses visibly relaxed. "I'd be glad to help out," Emma said. "Keeping the peace is what we do. But it just so happens we're going to be gone for the first two weeks in May."

"A second honeymoon. We're going to sail up to Nantucket." Hook slipped his arm around Emma's waist. "Just the two of us. Away from the car-upending giants and whatnot."

"My father will be acting sheriff," Emma said. "I'll pass along your request to him."

"And the-?" Gid waved his hand in the air.

"Oh. If any magic problems pop up-"

"Aren't they all magic problems?" Hook mused. "When was the last time we issued a traffic ticket or picked up a pickpocket?"

"Regina's going to take care of it." Emma finished. "With Zelena as backup. Kinda. Sorta."

"I see." Gid caught his breath. He'd known all along he'd have to make his request to the mayor too, but he dreaded it nonetheless. "Thank you for speaking to your father for me." He decided to work up to Regina by starting with less scary folk. "Bon voyage." He snapped his fingers and vanished.

Blue had always felt a guilty about her failure to protect him from the Black Fairy, so when he arrived at the convent she ushered him into the kitchen, served him cookies and milk (he refrained from reminding her he was old enough for canapes and scotch) and eagerly asked what she could do for him. But her small smile wavered when he explained the situation. After three centuries of enmity, she was still struggling with the information that Rumplestiltskin had been fated to become a Savior, and it still made her uncomfortable to think of the kind and caring Belle married to the—well, she wasn't sure whether to call him the "Dark One" any more. But Gideon made the request personal, and she could see nothing wrong in it, nor could she deny him anything. "Of course. The sisters and I will make certain the town is protected and your parents' wedding is uninterrupted." She pushed the platter of warm cookies closer to him. "Now, have another cookie, child."

Granny, though she was quite fond of him personally, never had warmed up to Rumple, so she gave him attitude: "Boy, I wouldn't trust your father farther than I can throw Tiny, so his 'special celebration' is safe from me. If my diner was on fire, I wouldn't ask him to spit on it to put it out."

Leroy, likewise, gave him pushback: "Me, ask him for help? There's always a price with him, even with stuff that doesn't belong to him. He still won't give back our beer steins."

Gideon ignored the snide remarks. He knew what his father had once been, and he knew what his father was now. Most of the town, having learned of Rumple's past and having observed the changes that he had struggled to make, were willing to give the no-longer-Dark One a second chance—especially when they'd discovered that his light magic was just as potent as the dark had been and that the price for his favors had been marked down.

He decided to meet Regina in her office, where she would feel a little more obligated to accept a citizen's request. He dressed in one of the (too many) tailored suits his father had bought him and he waited in the lobby as the mayor's assistant announced him. Belle would have been proud of him, had she known the lengths he'd taken this week to be polite and patient, but he refrained from telling her; protecting the sanctity of her wedding day was part of his gift to her.

"Gideon." Regina lifted her gaze from a stack of paperwork, but she continued to hold her pen as a signal to him that she wanted this meeting to be kept short. He remained standing as a sign that he would get right to the point. "What can I do for you?"

"Madame Mayor," he dipped his head in greeting. "Good afternoon. I came to ask-" he almost said _favor_ , but she would take that as his father's word, and enough stiffness remained between her and Rumple that he'd best steer clear of such reminders. "I came to ask your assistance. As not just the mayor but as one of the most powerful magic wielders in this land. Please."

The corners of her mouth lifted; she liked being in the power position. "Let's hear it."

"On May 11, my parents are going to have a celebration."

"And they want me to come." She flipped through the pages of her desk calendar. "What time?"

"Yes, we'd be honored if you could come, but there's a little more to it. You see, it seems to always happen that just when my parents most need some peace and quiet, that's when some jerk raises cain, and it's always some magic user, so the town comes running to Dad and Mom for help."

Regina nibbled on the top of her pen. "I suppose we have, on occasion, in an emergency. . . ."

"Well, I'm asking, please, on May 11, if some magic havoc kicks up, would you take care of it? Let my parents have the day to themselves?"

She huffed. "I'll have you know, Master Gold, we've never disturbed your parents' peace unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Oh, I understand, and I'm sure they're grateful for that. It's just that on this particular day, I was really hoping it wouldn't be absolutely necessary. You see, they're reaffirming their wedding vows. It would be the best gift anyone could give them, to have that day go perfect. I may be worried for nothing; we haven't had a magic invasion here in months. But just in case, would you—keep an eye on things? Nip trouble in the bud? I've asked Blue to help too, but I think you're more alert to everything going on in town."

"Nothing happens in this town that I don't know about," she assured him. "Even a wedding." As his mouth fell open, she explained, "Nothing magic about that. I overheard Belle ask Ruby to be her maid of honor."

Gid closed his mouth. It was to the Golds' advantage that Regina knew all the goings-on.

"As mayor of this town, the safety of our citizens is my first concern, so I'd protect Storybrooke without your asking." She gave him a genuine smile. "But I'll do everything I can to make sure your parents' ceremony goes smoothly. And Gideon, I think it's considerate of you to look out for them."

"Thank you, Madame Mayor."

Buoyed, he visited several other potential rabble-rousers in town. For those who had granted Rumple their forgiveness, Gid offered a deal: "Let my parents have peace and quiet on May 11, and I'll owe you a favor." It was a deal too good to pass up, the townsfolk said.

But foresight had never been a talent in this town. . . .


	2. Movie Night

_**May prompt: Movie Night. Family Night at the Golds' becomes something memorable as Gideon offers a special pre-wedding gift. Rated K.**_

* * *

"Eyes closed now. This way. Careful, Mom, you're about to walk into the dining table. Turn left now. Maybe it would be easier if I just poofed us into the living room."

"No, no," Belle broke in. "You know how I feel about the unnecessary use of magic." She kept walking, her hand clamped firmly over her eyes, her feet shuffling so she wouldn't stumble over something.

Beside her, Rumple also shuffled with his eyes screwed closed and one hand outstretched for obstacles. "I agree with your mother. Remember, Gid, even the slightest output of magic has a cost. Besides, this is more fun."

"All right." One hand on each of his parents' shoulders, Gideon steered them toward the left. "We've got about ten feet to go yet. . . . A little to your left, Mom. . . . Okay, here, feel that? That's the couch behind you. Sit down now."

"It's times like these, my cane would handy," Rumple remarked as he reached out to grab the armrest. He lowered himself gingerly before grasping Belle's elbow and assisting her down to the cushions. "There, are you comfortable, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine." Belle sniffed. "But I smell popcorn. Cheddar cheese popcorn."

"Your favorite." Gideon set a warm bowl onto her lap. "And there are sodas on the coffee table."

"Movie Night!" Belle exclaimed. "Did I lose track? Is it Friday already?"

"No, this is a special occasion. You can open your eyes now." He'd decorated the darkened room with pine cones, fronds, electric candles and gold streamers. A film screen had been erected against the television wall. In the center of the room he'd set up an accent table containing a strange contraption.

"Oh, Gid, it's lovely," Belle admired. "And it smells so good." She stuffed her hand into the popcorn and grabbed a fistful of crunchy clouds. "Mmmm." She nodded at the coffee table. "You remembered my root beer."

"And Dad's Dr. Pepper." Gideon was proud of himself.

Rumple stood to walk around the accent table to examine the contraption upon it. "So that's what you wanted that old microscope for. And this looks like the movie projector I had in the backroom. But it was broken and I couldn't get replacement parts for it."

"Ebay," Gid shrugged. "It's fixed now. I connected the projector with the microscope and added a miniature sound system so I could show you something special."

"You have a real knack with mechanics." Rumple leaned in to peer at the colorful square of cloth that stretched between the microscope's glass slides. "What is this? It looks like a snippet from a tapestry."

"It is. Have a seat now, Dad. I have a special movie to show you." Gideon straightened his back in pride. "Dad, Mom, you remember a couple of weeks ago when I spent the night over at Jefferson's?"

"Yeah." Belle squinted suspiciously. "You told us he was teaching you some card tricks."

"Well, he did, I didn't lie; but there was a little more to it than that. He, uh—don't get mad, now, Dad; you're going to love what we did. He made a portal and we took a quick trip to Mount Olympus."

Belle gasped and even the normally unflappable Rumple sputtered. "You—Olympus-the gods—he took you—how?"

"I know us ordinary folk aren't allowed there, but we had invitation. See, I found an old, very old, prayer book, and I prayed to Hera."

"The goddess of marriage," Rumple explained to Belle.

"Yeah. I told her about your wedding plans, and all the crap you'd been through, and how sucky it was that your marriage didn't get a fair shake the first time around, and how all of us, the whole town really, need for the rotten stuff to stop. We really just need some rest. And it felt like someone was actually listening so I kept talking, and the whole story spilled out, everything: the Ogres' War, your mom dying, Mom, your dad acting like a jerk—and I told her the Savior thing and how Fiona robbed you of that—and I wasn't even halfway into that story when I heard a voice come out of the clouds. It was so clear and sharp, I knew it was real. It said to me, 'Yes.'

"I didn't know what that meant. I hadn't asked for anything yet. So I continued with the story, telling her about Hordor and Zoso and Blue and the last portal bean, and she interrupted me again, and she said, 'Yes.' I guess it was rude of me, but I was confused, so I said, 'What do you mean, "Yes"? "Yes" what?' And she said, 'Yes, you may come to me.' So I did. Jefferson and I."

"You went to Olympus?" Belle breathed.

"Not exactly. It was more like a waystation, I guess. We couldn't see much; lots of fog. But she was-" he whistled. "She was beautiful. Sitting there on a golden throne. Tall, her hair all piled up on her head, held up with a tiara, white swishy robes and jeweled bracelets on her arms. She looked old and young at the same time. Her voice was like—she sounded just like Lauren Bacall and she looked like Audrey Hepburn. Her eyes were like stars. I felt so small in her presence, I nearly dropped to my knees but I couldn't budge, I was that petrified. Same with Jefferson. He just stood there gaping like a fish out of water. Anyway, I got mad at myself, that here I had the chance to talk to her and I couldn't get a word out. But she said, 'Gideon Gold, I know your story. I am the protector of marriage and family. I have no tolerance for those who would put asunder what Fate has joined together. The Black Fairy, the Blue Fairy, Zelena, Cora, and Hook have all interfered with the family that was meant to be. The Fates likewise have no patience with those who tamper with their plans for their selected ones.'

"I just stood there shaking, worried that I'd started something that was going to end awful. She was so stern and stiff, I thought she might throw the book at all of us. But then she surprised me, because she said, 'I am sorry, Gideon, for the wrong that has been done to you, your brother and your parents. I am more the sorry that I cannot reverse any of it. But, angry as the Moirai are with Fiona, they have granted your small request, abnormal though it be. They think that doing so would be a suitable way of thanking your mother for persuading your father to return the Shears of Destiny—unused.'" Gideon knew how close he'd come to having his own fate altered; it had been just one of many apologies the former Dark One had made, and one that Gideon had accepted readily, since Rumple had changed his mind about using the Shears.

Gideon now flicked a switch on his gadget. "This is what she gave me. Courtesy of the Fates, a piece of the original tapestry that was created for us." A beam of light streamed from the projector onto the screen, and Gideon sat down beside his mother, reaching into her bowl for some popcorn.

The light shone bright white at first, then bounced, and a hazy black-and-white image appeared, off-center. Gid couldn't make out the contents of the first image, but it soon clarified and filled with color, and then he could see a king-sized bed in a room that he recognized as the master bedroom upstairs. _Propped up by pillows (and with a book beside her)_ _lay Belle._ _Gathered around the bed were Ruby, another woman, a small man and_ _a sweating Rumplestiltskin,_ _his hair matted,_ _his sleeves rolled up, an apron protecting his silk shirt._ _He was panting in an oddly infectious_ _rhythm; Gid found himself panting along too. "_ _Breathe, Belle, breathe," he urged as he dabbed_ _at her damp forehead_ _with his handkerchief._

" _You're doing fine," the small man crooned. "Everything's normal."_

"That's Doc Miner," Belle whispered to Gideon. "He's the town OB/GYN."

"One of the dwarfs," Rumple added.

"That woman with him," Gid squinted to make the figure out. "That's your friend Nova, isn't it?"

"She helps out with deliveries."

" _Ready now, Belle: push!" Doc's back blocked their view—not that Gid wanted to see the actual delivery anyway. Suddenly Doc straightened, there was a wail, he handed a squirming bundle to Nova, who carried it off, and then he bent down again. "Now the afterbirth. Good job, Belle. You have a healthy baby boy."_

" _His name is Gideon." Belle dropped back into the pillows, her voice cracking._

 _Rumple nodded. "Gideon Gold." He stroked Belle's hair back from her face. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"_

" _Sore and tired. But excited to begin this new chapter in our lives."_

" _Good job, Belle." Nova carried over the blanketed newborn and lay him in his mom's arms. "Gideon Gold, meet your mama."_

The picture wavered, then dissolved into another: _a shadow, rocking slowly in a chair and turned toward a window through which a soft night breeze wafted. Another figure entered the darkened room and set a hand on the shadow's back. The quiet was briefly broken by a snuffling as a tiny, sleeping form lifted its head from the shadow's shoulder. The standing figure patted the little one's back and the little head dropped down again, forehead pressed to parent's shoulder._

The scene went hazy, and when the haze cleared, a baby came into view. _Poised on his hands and knees, the infant scowled as he began to rock back and forth on the plush carpet. Kneeling above him, his mother and his father traded encouragements: "Go, son, go!" "You can do it, Gid!" "Lift your knee, lift it!" "Come to Papa, Gideon!"_

 _Grunting, the baby rocked furiously but couldn't seem to catch onto the process. Finally, frustrated, he let himself drop onto his butt and he wailed with frustration. Hands scooped him up and cuddled him against warm, sweet-smelling softness. Something deep in him stirred: this softness represented his first memory of life._ _He forgot his disappointment and snuggled into his mama's arms. She chuckled. "It's okay, sweet boy. We'll try_ _again tomorrow."_

 _From far above, a deeper voice pondered the situation. "I think I know what's wrong." Knees thumped to the carpet. "Watch this, son. Watch me." Gid's eyes widened as his big, strong papa rocked back and forth on his hands and knees, then lifted his right hand from the carpet, then lifted his left knee. Gid gurgled as Papa scooted across the room, stopped at the crib and scooted back, panting. Mama and baby clapped their hands as Papa raised up to accept their applause with a bow. When Papa wheeled about on his knees for a return trip, Gid pushed himself out of Mama's lap and followed. "He's doing it, Rumple! Look!"_

 _Papa kept moving but glanced back over his shoulder. "Come on, Gid. We've got places to go and people to see, my boy."_

 _Studiously, Gid raised and planted one knee after the other until he'd caught up with Papa. "So now we know his learning strategy: monkey see, monkey do," Belle surmised._

 _Rumple gave a worried smile. "In that case, I think we're in a lot of trouble, Belle."_

The scene faded into another: _Gid, thumping a spoon on the tray of his high chair,_ _as Belle and Rumple skittered around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and utensils. Belle pulled the lid off a soup can, set the lid down on the kitchen table, then swung around to pour the condensed soup into a pan. She was stirring and Rumple was tossing a salad when a wail broke through their conversation. They both spun around and reached for the baby; Belle got there first, detaching him from the high chair and whisking him into her arms. "Gid, Gid, what's wrong, sweetie? Oh my god, Rumple, he's bleeding!"_

 _Rumple grabbed his son's index finger and inspected it. "He must've picked up the lid."_

" _Fix it, Rumple!" Belle wiggled her fingers to show what she meant._

 _Rumple held the finger high in the air to slow the bleeding. "Magic? Not the hospital?"_

" _No time for hospitals. Yes, magic!"_

 _A soft glow of purple light surrounded the wounded finger. Gid instantly stopped crying; with his free hand, he tried to catch the light. In just a moment the light vanished, leaving the finger completely healed, but also leaving Rumple tight-lipped. "That was the first time I ever let him see my magic."_

" _It was necessary." Belle kissed the finger, then stroked her husband's back. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. We were just hoping it would be later."_

" _I suppose," Rumple said thoughtfully, "he needs to know that his papa's different from the other papas. Which makes him different from the other kids."_

" _Different, but not weird. And there are a few others like him; he's not alone. We'll teach him, Rumple. We'll help him find his place in the world."_

 _Rumple sighed. "At least, if he's a sorcerer too, we've got sixteen or so years before we have to deal with that."_

" _It'll be okay." Belle kissed the baby's wet cheek. "Won't it, sweet boy? You'll go easy on your papa, won't you?"_

 _The baby patted his mother's cheek in reply._

* * *

" _GIDEON! Gideon Gold, get your little butt down here!"_

 _The frazzled parents stared up into the oak tree, where their child teetered on a limb, reaching out for a robin's nest. His hand shaking, Rumple sent a fist of magic to clutch the boy's shirt and lift him, wiggling, to Belle's arms. Gid made a pouty face and blew a raspberry at his papa, who slumped slowly to the ground. Closing his eyes, Rumple rested his forehead against the tree and moaned._

 _Belle couldn't help but get in a little dig. "I thought you said we had sixteen years."_

 _Rumple ran a hand through his hair and came away with strands of gray. "I'm going bald, Belle. He's only three years old and he's got me losing my hair. He'll have me in a straight jacket by the time he starts school."_

 _She giggled. "You're being melodramatic, sweetheart. We'll find our way. Won't we, Giddy?"_

* * *

 _The kitchen door slammed and feet stomped up the stairs. "You sit right there and think about what you did. No, I said sit. You know the rules, Gideon. Five minutes in the naughty corner." The door to the nursery was yanked shut._

 _Belle snapped off her vacuum cleaner and came out into the hallway to join her red-faced husband. "I take it the lesson didn't go well."_

" _Oh, he learned to ride without any difficulty. Then he wanted to go faster, so he-" Rumple waggled his fingers._

" _Oh. Did he get hurt?"_

" _He's fine, but we're now the proud owners of the world's first rocket-driven tricycle."_

 _Belle raised an eyebrow. "Keyword: 'proud'?"_

" _Yeah," Rumple admitted. "I hate to say it, but that kid's powers are going to rival mine. So yeah, proud."_

" _I'm proud of him too."_

* * *

 _A shadow, rocking slowly in a chair and turned toward a window through which a soft night breeze wafted. Another figure entered the darkened room and set a hand on the shadow's back. The quiet was briefly broken by the stirring of a small sleeping form perched on the rocker's lap. The standing figure patted the little one's back and the little head dropped down again, forehead pressed to parent's shoulder._

" _He's going to have a pretty good shiner," observed the standing parent._

" _He's too little to be getting into fights already." There were tears in the seated parent's voice._

" _At least he didn't use his magic against the other kid. He's got a lot of self-control for a six-year-old. You've given him that. If he'd inherited my temper. . . ."_

" _You've been a good example to him, Rumple. A calm, steady and dependable example."_

" _Thank you, sweetheart."_

" _What are we going to do about this? Should we talk to the teacher?"_

" _Bae used to get into fights. So did I, until I learned to run fast." A sigh. "I don't know, Belle. Maybe we should see if he can work it out for himself before we intervene. Or maybe we should ask the teacher to keep on eye on things. I don't know. On the one hand, we want him to learn to stand up for himself; adults won't always be there to protect him."_

" _On the other, he is just a little boy. He needs to feel safe. How can he concentrate in school if he has to look over his shoulder all the time?"_

" _I never figured it out, how to deal with bullies. When I was powerless, I hid from them or ran away. When I had power, I became a bully myself. Where's the balance? What's the smart way for a small child to protect himself and his pride?"_

" _I had my bullies too. Girls can be vicious, even against a duchess. I don't have the answer either. But we don't have to figure this out alone."_

" _Archie?"_

" _Why not Archie? We aren't failures as parents if we ask for advice."_

" _Yeah. . . .I suppose he'd have some advice for me too—how to resist the temptation to dig up my cane and pay that kid's father a visit."_

" _You know, there's a karate school downstairs from Archie's office. We could stop off there first. . . ."_

* * *

" _Papa, I'm eight years old now."_

" _There, snuggle down and I'll adjust your blankets. So what's this about being eight?"_

" _Well, Neal's eight and he doesn't get tucked in any more. And I've got an orange belt in karate."_

" _Oh. I see."_

" _But Papa, eight's not too old for bedtime stories, is it?"_

* * *

" _Steady, steady, keep your focus; picture in your mind where you want it to go. Think about how happy you'll feel when that shirt drops into the laundry hamper."_

" _It's going, it's going there, Papa! Look, Mom! It's flying! In the hamper, shirt!"_

" _It went in! Good job, Giddy!"_

 _"Now, son, close the lid of the hamper. See it in your mind, see it closing, gently now—good. You did it, son."_

" _So, Papa—when are you going to teach me fireballs?"_

* * *

" _Mama? Remember your promised me five dollars for every 'A' on my report card?"_

" _Certainly. And your parents always keep their promises."_

" _Well, there's a set of drums for sale at Hamlin's, so. . . could we make a deal?"_

" _Drums?!"_

* * *

" _Mom, you know I'm responsible, right?"_

" _Yes, Gid. You've done well with your responsibilities. Why?"_

" _I mean, I help out at the shop and the library and I do my chores here, and I keep my grades up, and my karate. I've got a lot of responsibilities, for a kid my age, but I haven't screwed up too often, have I?"_

" _You've done well, Giddy. We're proud of you."_

" _Well, here's the thing: sixteen is the legal age to get a job."_

" _Oh. Your allowance_ _—_ _"_

" _It's good, Mom. It's not the money; it's—don't be hurt, okay? I'd rather not work at the shop and the library any more; I want to get a real job. Where I can be my own man, you know? Not the boss' kid. Mom? Are you crying?"_

" _It's okay, Gid. I'm just crying because I'm proud of you."_

" _Well, that doesn't make sense. The crying part, I mean, not the proud part."_

" _Give me a minute, then we'll break the news to your father."_

* * *

" _You promised if I passed my test I could start driving alone."_

" _Yes. Yes, we did."_

" _You're not going to back out on a deal, are you, Dad?"_

" _No, son. I'd never do that."_

" _I think we're stuck. Give him the keys, Rumple."_

" _Thanks, Dad! I'll be back in an hour, I promise. I'm just going over Granny's for a burger."_

 _As their son clattered down the stairs, the front door banging behind him, Belle speculated, "Rumple, his magic can fix broken tail lights, knocked-down mail boxes, dented fenders—how are we going to know if he gets into an accident?"_

" _We have to trust him, sweetheart."_

" _I do, but. . . ."_

" _Besides, we have two secret weapons: traffic cameras_ _—_ _"_

" _And?"_

" _My grandson is the sheriff."_

* * *

" _Mom, can we talk? Privately?"_

" _Your dad's at a Chamber meeting. Come on in, Gid. Here, chop these carrots while we talk. What's up?"_

" _I have some good news and some bad news."_

" _Oh?"_

" _And I'm going to need some help telling Dad."_

" _Oh. . . ."_

" _The good news is I got accepted into Stanford."_

" _Oh, Gid, that's wonderful! I'm so proud of you! It's everything you dreamed of!"_

 _"And after that, if I keep my grades up, MIT!"_

" _Gid! I'm so happy for you, I'm practically delirious!"_

" _So, Mom, here's the bad news: I got into Stanford. How do I tell Dad I'm moving 2700 miles away?"_

* * *

 _Belle elbowed her husband, who was whistling shrilly between his teeth. Other parents seated in the bleachers around them turned to glare, snicker and snort at the proud father, who'd risen to his feet. "Honey, you're embarrassing him. Simple clapping would suffice."_

" _I don't care," Rumple huffed. "My son just graduated summa cum laude from Stanford-and without the use of magic. I've earned the right to cheer."_

" _Yes, you have." Belle stood up beside him, planted her fingers in her mouth and whistled. "Yay, Gideon!"_

 _Rumple winked at her. "He sees us. Look, he's waving. We did a good job, Belle."_

" _We did a very good job, Rumple."_

* * *

The images blanked out, leaving an empty white light beaming onto the film screen. Gideon set aside his soda, snapped off the machine and settled back down onto the couch, his arm around his mom's shaking shoulders. Belle turned her face into his chest and sobbed. As Gideon stroked her hair, Rumple reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Gid." Rumple had turned pale. "What you could have had, if I hadn't been so short-sighted, so fixated on magic solutions. To you too, Belle, what I stole from you. If I would have just talked to you, asked them"-he waved toward the street; Gideon realized he was referring to the community-"for help."

"It was my fault too. I was blinded by self-righteousness." Belle's voice grew small. "And wanting them to include me as a hero. You were robbed too, Rumple, because of my pride."

"Mom, Dad, I'm happy now; that's what matters. I have a pretty good future to look forward to." When Belle had regained her poise and accepted a handkerchief from Rumple, Gideon suggested, "It's not entirely too late."

"You aren't saying you want me to _—_ " Rumple summoned a bit of magic to his fingers.

"No. I still feel the same about that: I don't want to be de-aged. I am who I am because of what I went through. And I'm proud of what I am now. I love the life we have now." He reached into his jeans pocket and produced a wrinkled sheet of paper, which he gave to Belle. "But it's not too late for everything. Mom and Dad, I've been accepted into Northern Maine Community College for the fall semester."

"Oh, Gideon!" Belle plastered his face with kisses, until she was pushed forward and crushed against his chest when her husband threw himself at Gideon in a bear hug. "Mmmph! Mm'out!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. We didn't mean to squish you."

* * *

 _ **Coming up: As Gideon does his best to give his parents a wedding they'll always remember, Regina keeps the peace, kinda sorta.**_


	3. Regina and the Terrible, Horrible

**A/N. For the June prompt: bad day, drink, cuddling. The full title of this chapter is "Regina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" (but it won't fit in the title box)**

* * *

Not for a single day in the past year had Regina slid out of her queen-sized bed before nine a.m. Along with weekly mani-pedis and monthly shopping excursions in New York, sleeping in was one of the rewards she'd gifted to herself after the mess the Black Fairy had made had been cleaned up and no new destroyers had emerged. So it was that when her phone rang insistently and she elevated one eyelid just enough to see that the light edging in through her window blinds was still a product of the moon, she rolled onto her stomach and wrapped one of her pillows around her head. Three dim thoughts flitted through her mind, granting her permission to sleep on: 1) the ring tone wasn't "I'm a Believer"; thus, the caller wasn't Henry; 2) last month she and the City Council had signed the new budget, granting Emma (or, in her absence, Acting Sheriff Nolan) permission to hire a night dispatcher and a second deputy; thus, any city emergencies were well covered by law enforcement; and 3) no one in her extended family was ill, injured, pregnant or even likely to be awake at this hour; thus, the call had to be a wrong number. The call went into voice mail and Regina went back to sleep.

Only to be immediately aroused by a hand roughly shaking her shoulder. "Regina! Regina, wake up!"

She shot a defensive fireball into the darkness as she scrambled to sit up, her blankets yanked to her chin. "What? What? Step back, whoever you are, or I'll incinerate you."

The lamp on her nightstand snapped on and yellow light gave her unwelcome visitor a halo. She was about to ask how he'd gotten past her security system, but as her eyes adjusted to the blare of light, she had her answer, from the long, elegant lines of the fine cloth draping the young man's chest. "Armani," she mumbled, then, "Gideon. I won't ask how"-the smell of magic lingered in the air-"so why are you here?"

"It's May 11."

"It's also 5 a.m. Are you telling me that among all that junk in your father's shop, you couldn't find a single wrist watch?"

"Evil doesn't sleep in." Gideon magically slid her closet doors open. "It's a chilly morning but sunshine is predicted, so I recommend dressing in layers." He was quite pleased with his advice; he'd learned about layers from his mom. "I have breakfast waiting for you in your kitchen."

In frustration she magically slammed the closet doors closed. "Gideon, what are your parents doing right now?"

"Huh?"

"I'll make a deal with you." This, Regina suspected, would only be the first of several deals she'd be making with young Master Gold, now that she was on his radar, so she'd might as well get out ahead of him. "If your parents are awake and starting their day, I'll get up. If not, I'm going back to bed."

"But this is their wedding day-"

"Just what I thought." Regina snapped her fingers, shutting the lamp off.

* * *

At eight-thirty, Regina awoke gently to robins chirping outside her window and pale sunlight easing its way past her blinds. She sat up, stretched, scratched her head, yawned, ran a hot bath, as she did every morning, as she checked her email and phone messages. A calendar reminder of a one o'clock meeting with the head of Sanitation, a four o'clock conference call with the Chamber of Commerce's Adult Education Committee, a report she needed to submit by five, and the Golds' wedding at ten: the ordinariness of it all made her smile. She'd come to appreciate routine.

She'd just lowered herself into her sunken tub when her phone rang. "Shut up," she commanded it, sliding into the bubbles, but the disobedient thing demanded her immediate attention. "Gideon, if that's you-" Then she focused on the ringtone: "The Theme from _The Lone Ranger_ "—a tune she hadn't heard in almost a year. David's ringtone. She shot up out of the tub and snatched the phone. "Yes?"

"Regina, there's been a break-in at the library."

She forced herself to sound annoyed, but her hands shook a little. "Let me guess: you caught some teens making off with _Fifty Shades of Grey_."

"I wish that was all it was," David's tone was clipped. "Whoever it was, they jimmied the front door lock—the flimsy one Belle put in a requisition to replace three months ago."

Regina squirmed. Since she'd reformed, she'd been beleaguered too frequently by bouts of guilt over matters both big and small; it created a discomfort she'd never had to deal with before. "Yes, well, after all the monster damage the City has had to clean up in the past six years, our Maintenance Fund and Rainy Day Fund are depleted."

"Can't cough up twenty bucks for a lock?" David growled.

"May I remind you, Sheriff Nolan, the leadership of this town—including the former mayor, your wife—has had more urgent matters to attend to. Besides, who would want to break into a building full of books?"

"Someone did, obviously. May I remind you, Madame Mayor, about a month ago you asked Belle to translate an old book."

Regina groaned, suddenly needing an aspirin. "The one written in Old Middle Fairy."

"The very same."

"The one she thinks is a spell book."

"Right. The thief jimmied the lock on her desk, took the book and her notes."

Regina hissed, a string of modern-day curse words carried on her breath. "Any witnesses, fingerprints, what-have-you?"

"Nope."

"Wait a minute: isn't there a squatter living in the apartment over the library, a runaway?"

"Emma chased her out last week. Sent her back home."

"Just our luck: the one time she listens to me about enforcing vagrancy laws, it's the one time I wish she'd listened to her bleeding heart instead. Remind me again why we don't have any security cameras on our public buildings?"

"Budget cuts."

"Riiiight. All right, David, I authorize you to deputize the dwarfs. Send them out on the streets. Meet me at the library in five. If the intruder is a mage, maybe I can get a handle on his magic marker." She disconnected without a farewell and with a press of a button had Zelena on the phone.

"What do you expect me to do about it, without my magic?" the former witch moaned.

"You've got as many connections in the Storybrooke Underground as I do. Ask around. Spread the word: there'll be a reward, no questions asked, for the return of the book and those notes."

"Sis, just out of curiosity, how far along did Belle get in her translations?"

"I don't know, but however far she got, it was too far."

Regina hated to admit when someone else was right; she hated even more to admit when she was wrong. But in this case, she had to find out just what they were up against, so as she slid into her car, she swallowed her pride and phoned Gideon. "Listen, Junior"—she'd taken to calling him that as a small insult, but the funny thing was, he _liked_ it. The more the town teased him about his similarities with his father, the prouder he acted.

"Yes, ma'am?" Well, at least the boy's mom had been teaching him manners.

"How far along has your mother gotten in translating that fairy book I gave her?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Gideon admitted, "I'm not sure. Seems like she mentioned something about it a couple of days ago, at breakfast, but I was kinda busy texting. . . ."

"Try to remember. It's important. Someone broke into the library and took her notes."

A heavy groan filled the ether. "I'll go over to the library and have a look."

"No need. I'm on my way. In fact, it's better if you keep an eye on your parents instead. No sense in them getting unnecessarily upset. But, ah, perhaps you could worm the information out of your mother. You know, kind of sneak up on it?"

"She's gone already. Ruby's treating her to a spa day. But I can ask someone there to bring up the subject."

"Well, don't go through the wolf girl. She couldn't keep a secret if her diner depended on it. But we have to find out what spells we might be subjected to. If I have to, I'll threaten to yank Mama Behar's permits unless she gets the information—"

"Don't go to those extremes. Look, the manicurist and I have kind of a—never mind. I'll get the manicurist to find out. Call you back when I have an answer." A click ended the conversation before Regina could come up with some snarky remark about Junior Gold and his nail-painting girlfriend.

A scowling Acting Sheriff was standing, arms folded, outside the open door of the library as Regina parked her Mercedes along Main Street (ignoring the fire hydrant she was blocking). Marcos, his tool kit at his feet, was kneeling on the sidewalk and poking at the dangling backplate. "I can fix it, but it should be replaced. Immediately," Marco advised, and Nolan's scowl deepened as Regina, her heels clacking fiercely on the concrete, approached.

"How much for a new lock—a _better_ lock?" Nolan glared at Regina.

"Seventy, eighty, and thirty for labor."

"Fix it, right away. Send me the bill and I'll take it to the pawnshop. I'm sure Mr. Gold would be happy to contribute such a small amount, for his wife's safety," David ordered.

"No, no, let's not disturb him today," Regina interrupted. "Send the bill to me. I'll find some money somewhere." The City's Employee Christmas Card Fund, the Department Directors' Coffee Fund. . . . Regina tightened her mouth at Nolan. During the brief time that Snow had been mayor, there had been no shortage of volunteers willing to do stuff for the town for free. They claimed to have forgiven Regina, but they weren't above nickel-and-diming their grievances against her. She tossed her head, tossing the annoyance aside. "What can you tell from the break in, Sheriff?"

David pointed to the various pieces of the lock now strewn about the sidewalk. "They strong-armed it. No lock pick, so they were probably amateurs."

"I'm going in."

With a sigh, Marco shoved the door open to admit the mayor and the sheriff. Regina surveyed the library itself but found nothing out of order, at least, as far as she could tell; she hadn't set foot in this building since the September Readathon, where she'd been a celebrity reader ( _Fractured Fairy Tales_ had been her selection).

"They didn't take any of the computers," David pointed out. "They knew what they were after and where to find it." He led the way into Belle's office. Tiny as it was (Belle didn't mind; she spent most of her time out on the main floor) the two of them could barely fit in together. Nolan showed her the open desk drawer with its smashed lock. "Look at that." He indicated a little leather coin purse in the desk, mixed in with packages of cough drops, pens and Kleenex. "There's four dollars and five cents in the purse. They weren't after money."

"Hmmph. The wife of the richest man in the state keeps less than five bucks in her desk. I suppose she brown-bags her lunch," Regina remarked.

Nolan curled his lip. "She keeps that change to help out kids that can't afford to pay their library fines, so they can keep checking out books. Snow told me."

Regina swallowed in embarrassment. "Speaking of fines, I didn't see a cash register out there."

"She uses a cash box. But it's usually empty, filled only with IOUs." He pointed to a locked drawer on the other side of the desk.

"IOUs. I see. City policy makes no provision for accepting IOUs in lieu of payment."

"They didn't tamper with the cash box. They weren't after money."

"Magic users, then," Regina surmised. "Give me a minute." She closed her eyes and raised her hands, sending out pale pink tendrils of magic across the desk, into the broken lock and across the wooden floor. Her magic sniffed deeply and behind her closed lids she watched for flashes of light and color, but her magic-sonar returned no response. "Nothing." She lowered her hands and opened her eyes.

"So, not a magic user, then. But maybe a would-be magic user."

"Maybe so. Whoever they are, they're not garden variety thieves."

"If they were, the library would've been the last place they'd've broken into."

"All right. Keep investigating. Call me when you have something." She walked back to her car and sat down behind the steering wheel, trying to think of a next step. Regina was about to dial Blue when the phone rang again. "They're heeeere!"

"Calm down, Dwarf, and tell me who's here." Regina dared hope that Leroy's perpetual state of panic had merely kicked in and he was overreacting as usual, but no such luck; the dwarf shrieked into the phone "MONSTERS!" before hanging up (or being hung up).

Regina banged her head against the steering wheel.

And so it began: Regina's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Before she'd even had her morning coffee.

* * *

"I don't see anything. Show me," she demanded, examining the alley behind Dark Star Pharmacy.

"There!" Sneeze. "In the can."

Regina pushed past the dwarf/pharmacist for a better look at the dented garbage can, now lying on its side. Behind it a burst garbage bag dribbled its contents across the dust. Sneeze. Snuffle. "I lifted the lid to put the garbage inside and"—he threw his arms into the air, accompanied by a whoosh and a shriek. "This thing—I don't know what—I couldn't see it; it moved so fast. It came shooting out like a cannon ball from a cannon, you know, and took off down the alley. It busted through the fence and after that I lost track of it. It was small, like"—he slashed his hand across his waist. "That high. And scaly. Green and orange stripes. Sharp teeth. Red eyes."

"That's a pretty good description," Regina assessed as she examined the shattered fence. "Not a gnome; they don't have stripes. Not an imp; they're much bigger. Strong little critter, apparently." She knelt to search the dust for footprints, but she'd no sooner singled out the intruder's from the dwarf's when her phone rang again.

"MONSTERS at Miss Ginger's!"

"Well, call the Sheriff—"

Click.

Regina glared at her phone. "Who do you people think I am, Sherlock Holmes?" She glanced at Tom Clark, whose face was partially hidden behind a handkerchief. "We didn't bring Holmes over in one of the curses, did we?"

"Not—" Achoo. "Sorry. Allergic to dust."

She straightened and slid her phone back into her jacket pocket. "All right, call the Sheriff and make a report. If you can get through to him." With a flick of her fingers she caught a wave of traveling magic and reappeared on Miss Ginger's lawn, where a crowd had gathered around an oak tree: three dwarfs bearing pickaxes, the Sprats, he with a garden hoe and she with a handheld mixer, and Miss Ginger, with a squirming cat under each arm. All of them were shouting and/or shrieking, except Ginger, who alternated between pleas to her "precious baby" to "come down, come down now to Mama" and threats to "tear the arms off" some unseen person and "stuff 'em down your throat with nuts and sliced apples 'fore I shove you in my oven."

Regina's stomach twisted as Miss Ginger's threats became more graphic. Maybe it was just as well she hadn't had time for her morning coffee after all. Subtly fishing in her pocket for a Tums, Regina edged up to the frantic property owner. "Now, now, Miss Ginger, no need for violence. I can settle this with no fuss, if you'll just tell me what's going on."

"It's what's going on! Can't you see it? It's got my Elsie!" Miss Ginger awkwardly attempted to point, with one of her cats, into the leafy branches. "There!"

Regina squinted. Leaves fluttered and a branch rattled, and she thought she saw a flash of orange. "Where?"

All five spectators filled for Miss Ginger as official pointers. "THERE!"

"It's a lemur!" Sprat volunteered.

"No it isn't, you dummy; it's an armadillo," Mrs. Sprat spat.

"Nope, a oversized gopher. Look at the stripes," Happy suggested.

"You fools, it's a Monster from the Enchanted Forest!" Leroy growled. "And if we don't catch it, it's gonna eat that cat and then it's gonna to ravage this town!" He swung on Regina. "You're the mayor: DO SOMETHING!"

"Calm down, calm down," Regina walked around the tree for a better look. "I've got this under control." She shot some magic into the tree, burning away a few of the leaves and causing Miss Ginger to cry, "My precious Elsie, you're killing her!"

"Oh, hush up." Regina pointed a glowing finger at Miss Ginger, intending to conjure a gag, then she remembered that heroes are patient with victims and she returned her attention and her magic to the tree. With the leaves burnt away, she now had a clear view of the yellow cat, clinging to the highest branch: she made a hammock of her magic and lifted the animal down into Sprat's arms. Ginger ran forward, transferring a cat from her left underarm to her right; the cat under the right arm squalled in protest at the jostling. As Ginger swept Elsie from Sprat's hold, the two prisoners under her right arm broke loose and made a beeline for the garage. Regina tossed a magic seal across the open garage door. Safe behind the invisible barrier, the two cats sat down and soothed themselves by licking their fur. "You stay where you are, babies," Miss Ginger urged unnecessarily. With a free hand now, she jabbed a finger at the tree. "Get that son of a—"

"It's all right, Miss Ginger; I'm taking care of it," Regina interrupted. She burned away some more leaves so she could make out the green-and-orange being clinging by its clawed feet to a lower branch. "What is that thing?" With great precision, she aimed magic at the creature—and then her phone rang. Automatically, and foolishly, she started to reach into her jacket; as she was looking down, she heard a rustling overhead and a crash, and the tree branch landed at her feet and something skittered off into the bush line that separated Miss Ginger's lawn from the Sprats'.

Five groans brought Regina's attention back to the scene. "You let it go!" Leroy announced. "It's gonna terrorize the whole town!"

"C'mon, bros, after it!" Happy raised his pickaxe in the air and galloped off through the bushes, followed closely by Dopey, the Sprats and Leroy.

Her phone still ringing, Regina pressed the answer button as she watched the vigilantes give pursuit across the Sprats' lawn, into the street, behind the parked cars and finally, into a jewelry store. Even from the distance and over the ringing phone, she could hear glass shattering.

"Regina! I've been trying to call David but I can't get—" On the other end of the line she heard a heavy thud. "Through. I need your help. There's something, some sort of thing, sort of like a cross between Zelena's flying monkeys and an okapi, but with fish scales. It's in the school cafeteria, gobbing up the spaghetti and throwing meatballs at the cooks. Help!"

"Don't try to catch it yourself. I'm on my way."

"I wouldn't try. I'm not in the habit of carrying my bow and quiver to school."

Regina pocketed her phone and summoned a traveling cloud. Miss Ginger shrieked at her, "What are you doing? Where are you going? The monster's that way!"

"There's another one that way." Regina pointed in the opposite direction. "And this one's threatening the kids. A sorceress can only be in one place at a time." She hied herself off to the hallway outside the cafeteria and elbowed her way through a crowd of giggling, chattering elementary school kids and their giggling, chattering teachers. "Quiet, you," she warned, "you might scare the creature into doing something drastic." She flashed a sneer at the loudest giggler: "Mr. Shoeman! I expected better from you."

"Sorry, Madame Mayor." The principal ducked his head.

"Sheesh." Gingerly she eased the swinging doors open and slid into the cafeteria. Her booted foot slipped in a pool of marinara sauce and she had to grab one of the cooks to save herself from falling. The cook smiled at her in admiration. "Going in, Madame Mayor? You'll need some protection." He offered her the pot lid he'd been using as a shield. A second cook offered a serving fork. "Go get 'em, Ms. Mills. We're rootin' for you."

Regina accepted the makeshift weapons. She didn't remind the cooks that her magic would handle the enemy more effectively; the admiration they were showing her meant so much more than being correct right now. At times like these, she felt the rewards of her conversion to heroism.

She returned their encouragement with authoritative confidence. "All right. So tell me what you know about this—" she waved the fork at the creature dancing a jig in a tray of Jello. "Thing."

"Well, it's not a vegetarian," said one of the cooks. "It's eaten as many meatballs as it's thrown."

"He's allergic to garlic. He started off by throwing garlic bread at us, but that caused him a sneezing fit."

"How do you know it's a he?" Cook #1 asked.

"Just a guess."

"It came in through the back door as I was taking out the garbage," another cook offered.

"Leaped onto the serving counter, then onto my shoulder," Cook #2 rubbed at a trio of blood stains on her white jacket. "Dug its claws in, until Mert whacked it off with a frying pan."

"It fell into the marinara sauce and it's been eating and throwing ever since," Cook #1 supplied.

"Has it exhibited any signs of magic?"

"Nope. Tried to bite me, but I smashed him again with my frying pan. If he had magic, he would've used it then, I bet."

"Very well." Regina nodded at her supporters, squared her shoulders, raised her tin shield and her fork, and inched forward. "You! Whatever you are, put down that meatball this instant!"

This one was similar in appearance to the one that had harassed Elsie, but larger, about two-thirds the size of a flying monkey. As Clark has described it (or its brother—at this point Regina had no idea how many of these creatures might be gallivanting about), its scaly body was striped with horizontal bands of phosphorescent green and tangerine orange. Its red eyes blinked at her; it displayed its pointed teeth at her.

"You have celery stuck between your teeth," Regina observed dryly.

The creature poked a claw at its teeth, and while it was thus distracted, she channeled a stream of magic through the serving fork. The magic splatted across the creature's face, dribbled down, and engulfed the creature in liquid, which Regina instantly froze into a prison of ice. With a flick of her wrist she transported the creature to Cell B in Emma's jail, slammed and locked the iron door.

Applause and hoots of congratulation filled the cafeteria as the students and teachers poured in. Cooks slapped her shoulders. "'Gina, y'er awright!" "Three cheers for the Hero Queen!"

Regina curtsied. "Pardon me. I have a jewelry store to save."

* * *

"Regina, help! A green gnome is riding Pongo and beating him with my umbrella!"

* * *

"Regina, my manicurist friend got the intel from Mom: she'd finished translating two spells, one for conjuring an imp, one for conjuring a gremlin. If anyone cast the spells, no big deal, right? It's not like they can summon ogres."

* * *

"Regina! One of them orange things jumped onto the hood of my car and stuck his face against the windshield. Scared me so bad I ran off the road and knocked down your mailbox. Do something!"

* * *

"Madame Mayor! Three gremlins—I don't know how they got here; must've found an open portal—they invaded choir practice, put on choir robes and now they're singing from the rafters!"

* * *

David, Snow and Regina stood with folded arms and scowls, staring into Cells A and B, where nine creatures were pushing and shoving each other to gain possession of the blankets that had formerly covered the cots. David looked as fresh and clean as ever—that was his own magic talent, Regina supposed: even after a day of chasing monsters, not a hair was out of place. Regina, however, was dusty, sweaty and limp, her three-hundred dollar hairdo matted to her makeup-less cheeks, and her thousand-dollar pantsuit torn and stained with grass and marinara sauce. Of course she could clean herself up with a wave of her hand, but she was too tired to care. She accepted a cup of coffee (store brand, but after the day she'd had, she'd have welcomed swamp water for refreshment) from Snow and sank down on the Naugahyde couch, the cracks in the faux leather poking at her legs.

"I'll put funds for a new couch in the sheriff's budget for next year," she murmured. "And some decent coffee." The room was growing dark as the last of daylight leaked weakly through the windows. Exhausted, Regina yawned.

"Thank you." David glanced up at the wall clock as he flipped on the florescent lights. "Well, I missed Gold's bachelor party."

"Snow and I missed the bridal shower." Regina drooped back against the couch. "And Gold gave Ruby unlimited access to his wine cellar for it."

"What do you think they are, Regina?" Snow studied the prisoners closely. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Neither have I. They've got the temperament of a gnome, but the stripes—"

"They're grimps." Clattering heels in the hallway followed the angry voice. In a moment, Zelena swept in. Beneath her pinch on his ear struggled a squealing teenage boy, and after him trod his red-faced parents.

Snow's mouth formed a long line. "Dick Whittington. I should've known you were behind this. What did you do?"

Zelena released him so the boy could stand straight, but the kid merely snorted his reply. Zelena grabbed him by the nose this time and squeezed until he yelped. "Answer her properly and respectfully or I'll yank this snozola of yours right off."

"Don't punish him too hard," Dick Senior begged David. "It was just a prank. You know, a kid's prank. Like we used to do."

"David was too busy trying to save his farm to play pranks," Snow snapped. "As for you, young Master Whittington," she walked up to the boy and flashed her teeth at him, though he stood a full head taller than she. "You were a spoiled brat in my fifth grade science class and these six years haven't made you any better."

"This might answer some questions." Zelena snapped her fingers. "Give it up, brat."

"Make me, witch," the kid sneered.

His mother groaned and reached into Dick Junior's T-Birds jacket. What she found in the inner pockets, she lay carefully onto the deputy's desk. David stared down at the haul.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Mayor." She swallowed hard. "You too, Mrs. Nolan. I—we—should've been stricter with him. He was an only child, so we thought we were being lenient. We let him run wild."

"Showing up for parent-teacher conferences would've been a good start," Snow commented.

David held up the contents of Dick Junior's jacket. "A book, in some unrecognizable language, and some notes, in some recognizable handwriting. Belle's."

Awakened, Regina leaped to her feet and took the book. "This is it." She shook a finger into Dick's face. "What were you doing with-"

Suddenly the air filled with a bright light and the scent of sulfur. "Magic!" Regina spun around, seeking the caster; Zelena shrugged and shook her head, while the non-mages stared in bewilderment. "Look!" Mrs. Whittington pointed to the cells.

One by one, the creatures faded from view.

"Where did they go?" David rushed to the cells to examine the locks. "Are they loose?"

Regina set the book aside and flipped through the pages of Belle's notebook. "Back where they came from, which is to say, nothing." She summoned a fireball and bounced it from hand to hand. "Start talking, brat."

With each toss, the fireball grew bigger and Regina took a step closer to Dick Junior. "You know, sis, I bet we could start a new fashion trend at the high school if you singe off his eyebrows."

Beads of sweat formed on the teen's forehead. "It wasn't my idea. I just went along for the ride. It was Elmo Zucko's idea. He said he knew where we could get a hold of a book of spells. I said yeah, there's a whole bunch of them in Gold's shop, but he's got a blood lock on it; nobody can get into that shop unless he lets them. Mo said he saw a spell book on Mrs. Gold's desk, when he went in to pay a fine. He knew it was a spell book because he saw her notes. She put it in a drawer and locked it before she took his money. That's how we knew where it was."

"How did you go from this," David pointed to the book, "to this?" He pointed to the jail cells, where the only remaining evidence of the creatures was the shredded blankets.

"I think I see." Regina held up the notebook, so that all could see a smudge of something purple that was causing some of the pages to stick together. "Grape jelly," she explained. "On page 1, the beginning of a set of instructions for conjuring an imp. Stuck to the back of page 1, the instructions for conjuring a gremlin."

"Hence, a grimp," Zelena concluded. "Didn't it occur to you it's stupid to cast a jelly-smudged spell?"

Dick Junior shrugged. "I was hungry. Anyway, the instructions said the spell wouldn't last past sundown. So what's the big deal? We had some fun, they're gone, no harm done."

Mrs. Whittington climbed on tiptoe to smack the back of her son's head. "Stupid, stupid kids."

"The grimps tore up a school cafeteria and a jewelry shop. They scared half the population of this town," Regina growled.

"One of them swallowed five thousand dollars' worth of diamonds and sapphires." David added.

"So what? Jeweler's got insurance, right?"

"You and your friends are under arrest." David swung open the door to Cell A and gestured inside.

"You're kidding." Dick Junior smirked. "You can't jail me. I'm seventeen."

"Just watch." David grabbed the kid's arm and directed him into the cell, over the boy's howls and the father's protests.

Dick Senior rushed to the cell, trying to prevent David from closing the door. "Now, come on, Nolan, it was just a joke. You can't put him in jail for that. He's just a kid; you want to ruin a boy's entire life over a joke?"

"You want to join him?" David flashed a warning finger at the father. "The penalty for obstructing justice is even worse than what the judge is likely to give him." Dick Senior backed off.

"He's right, Richard," Mrs. Whittington snapped. "Stay out of it. I won't bail either one of you out." She turned to Snow. "Mrs. Nolan, I understand Gold is a family attorney. Does he do divorce cases?"

"I don't know, but I think he'd make an exception for you."

As David fished into his jeans for his phone, he suggested, "Regina, you should take possession of the evidence for the time being. I'm calling Leroy to round up the other kids involved."

Snow glanced up at the clock. "And if we hurry, we'll have just enough time to get out to the wedding. Though I hate to go like this." She indicated the skirt-and-sweater combo she'd worn to school that day.

Regina volunteered, "I can take care of the attire problem, along with the transportation, if you'll babysit the brat, sis?"

"Glad to," Zelena winked at her sister before seating herself on the couch. "Master Whittington, you and I are going to have a long, long chat about wickedness and what it gets you in this world." She leaned forward to sneer at the kid. "And you're going to hang onto my every word. And so are you, aren't you, Mama and Papa?" She patted the space beside her, inviting Mr. and Mrs. Whittington to be seated.

"When she says 'a long, long chat,' she's not exaggerating. Expect to remain here until daylight." With a flash of magic, Regina traded the Charmings' everyday clothes for formal wear, then exchanged her stained J. Crew pantsuit for an Altuzarra silk dress. "Now, Snow, if you'll tell me where you left your wedding present, I'll transport that too."

* * *

She'd dropped down onto one of the folding chairs at the banquet table just as soon as the ceremony—thankfully brief but beautiful and emotional just the same—had concluded. Henry brought her a filled plate and gave her a quick kiss before scampering off to fulfill his role in the wedding: he was the official DJ, providing music that he'd selected himself as his gift to Grandpa and Grandma Gold. Of course he started off with "The Theme from Beauty and the Beast," to which the Golds danced alone, then he segued into a waltz that the other couples could join in. Regina noted among the dancers the surprise pairing of the night: Granny Lucas and Moe French. She watched the couples lean into each other, sharing whispers and sly kisses, and she thought she would be willing to trade every jewel and every dress in her collection for just one dance with Robin.

Half-asleep, Regina didn't hear the approaching footsteps over the soft grass. She was startled out her reverie when a glass of wine was set down in front of her and the empty seat to her left was suddenly occupied.

"Thank you, Regina. I understand you had quite a day, saving the town from teenage delinquents."

"I suppose I'm getting too old to be chasing grimps around town." She sipped the wine. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Thanks to you, Mom and Dad had a wonderful day with their friends." He clinked his glass with hers. "And this beautiful, peaceful celebration tonight."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" As Henry moved the music along to "Wild Thing," setting off a burst of laughter in the audience, she tilted her head toward Granny and Moe, who were teaching the others how to Swim. "One of these days, you're going to have to tell me that story. Your grandfather and Granny Lucas, how they got together."

"I'll be glad to. Like all the other stories here, it's an original."

The music segued into a song that Regina had heard many times blaring from Henry's bedroom and she couldn't help but tap her foot. Gideon rose, bowed and offered his hand. "Madame Mayor, I know you've had a hard day and you're tired, but just one dance?"

"Oh, I don't know, Gideon; I'm not sure I can dance to this."

"You already are." He indicated her tapping foot. "Come on, Regina, it's 'Uptown Funk'; who can resist? Let's make those dragons want to retire." He pointed to Maleficent and the Dragon, who was now going by his true name, Wu Yang. Their movements had nothing to do with the rhythm of the song, but it didn't matter to them or anyone else.

"You know, I think I can manage one dance." As Regina let Gideon lead her onto the dance space, she glanced across the meadow, where the Golds, still in a tight embrace, had moved apart from the crowd. They waved to her, then as Belle rested her head against her husband's shoulder, his magic swirled around them, blocking them from view. The magic dissipated and the couple was gone.

Regina didn't feel quite so tired now. In fact, she felt rather heroic.


	4. Too Much Alcohol, Too Many Grimps

**As the Golds' wedding party wraps up, Gideon and Regina have a heart-to-heart. For #a-monthly-rumbelling, July prompt: "The only good part about being alone is that I don't wake anyone up when I start screaming at night."**

* * *

Midnight: to the residents of the Land Without Magic, the witching hour. But Regina would have snickered, "Every hour is witching hour"—if she had been awake.

Gideon moved slowly, tiredly through the remains of his parents' re-wedding, picking up the trash by hand, rather than with magic, simply for the satisfaction of a job well done. Belle and Gold, driven by Mr. Dove, had bid goodbye and thanks to their guests and had taken off for their honeymoon thirty minutes ago on a six-month world cruise; the guests had drunk and danced a little longer before climbing into their vehicles and returning to town.

Gid paused once to survey the scene he'd designed: the white tables draped with white linen cloths; the matching chairs, cockeyed, some even overturned; the little folding table that still held Henry's speakers and battery-operated turntable; the gift table, bearing empty boxes, bows and pretty wrapping paper (Oh, how the guests had stewed over what to buy for the couple who had everything, including, finally, each other). Bottles, glasses, crumbs from sandwiches and a collapsed slice of cake, gold and white balloons and streamers tied to the pine trees: there would be hours of clean up to do in the morning, but Gid had hired a team of high schoolers for that.

He was the one who'd introduced the Storybrooke Chamber of Commerce to the idea of creating apprenticeships for teenagers, and he'd talked his parents into setting the example, Mom with her Computer Tutors and Dad with his Maintenance Team for his rental properties. Having money meant you owed something to the community, Mom liked to say; having magic meant the same thing, Dad had learned.

Dad was still learning. Gid couldn't really blame him: he'd lived three hundred years as an outsider, bullied, ignored, despised, and after his power came to him, feared and avoided. By the time Mom had come into his life, he'd learned the trappings of society, but he'd never learned how to fit in. She was changing that, for both her husband and her son. Both men could be caught smiling a lot these days.

"Perfect day." Gid said aloud, though there was no one to hear him.

Except there was. A sharp cry cut the night and a dark form bolted upright from a chair that had been dragged into the shadows. Grabbing the only weapon available, a cake knife, Gid ran toward the disturbance, to find that one of his guests had apparently fallen asleep and had been left behind. He wondered why her family hadn't missed her, until she staggered under a Japanese lantern and he could see who she was: Regina. Henry had driven Violet home, leaving his mom to make her own way back to town—normally no inconvenience for a woman with magic, except Regina had had too much to drink tonight and too much _day_ today, and the combination of champagne and overexertion had left her exhausted, unsafe to fly.

"Hey," Gid took her elbow and led her to the nearest table. He shoved a space clear for her and helped her to sit down. "Are you okay?"

"Just. . . ." She finished with a shrug, her head too muddled to find words.

He brought her a glass of water and conjured a bottle of aspirin before sitting down beside her. She couldn't manage to get the cap off the bottle, so he did that for her, pouring three pills into her open palm. She tossed them into her mouth and drank the water in gulps. "Thanks." Holding her head in her hands, she pried her eyes open enough to glance around. "Party's over, huh?"

"The last of them left about fifteen minutes ago."

"It was a good one. Even Granny had a good time, and that's going some, to impress her."

"Yeah. Well, it probably helped that I hired her to cater." They both chuckled.

"Never saw your father smile so big before. Never saw him dance before; didn't know he could. And I've known him"—she winced as she tried to count the years—"a long time."

"There's still a lot I'm learning about him. Mom is easier; she calls herself an open book." He paused, giving her time to nurse her headache while he considered his words. "Regina, is there something wrong? Maybe something I can help with?"

"Huh? No, of course not."

"You were having a nightmare just now."

She shrugged. "Too much alcohol, too many grimps."

"I know Henry's housesitting for Emma and Hook while they're gone. Must be kind of. . .quiet for you."

"Gotta get used to it sometime. Henry will be off to college in two years."

"I lived in a cage most of my life. I still have nightmares. PTSD, Archie calls it."

"The Black Fairy was a total bitch. Worse than the Evil Queen, in some ways," Regina snorted. "Sorry. I know she was your grandmother."

"For a long time, the only parent I had. I'm still getting used to the freedom." He shivered in the night air. "And the love. Mom's a hugger; that's still strange to me."

"I can understand that. My childhood was devoid of affection. After I first adopted him, I had to remind myself to hug Henry. It gets easier, pretty quickly. And then the hugs come naturally."

"I see that in my dad. Every now and then, it's like he's starved for hugs. Mom doesn't mind."

"You're lucky to have her."

"We know. She says she's the lucky one; she needs to be needed." He found a half-filled bottle of champagne and poured himself a glass, sipping idly from it. "What I meant to say is, I know what it feels like, to go from being locked in to suddenly"—he waved his hand in the air. "Total freedom. Sometimes it's too much. The cage feels safer."

Regina nodded, as much as her headache would allow. She remembered being locked up in Snow's prison; in a bizarre way, it had been sort of a gift, to be cared for, free from the need to make decisions. "The Evil Queen was a cage for me. Without her, finding my own way has been confusing. Frustrating."

"Archie's been treating me. He's sympathetic, nonjudgmental, but he's never been locked up. Sometimes I need to talk to someone who's been there. My parents were both locked up for a long time. They can understand things Archie can't."

"You're lucky to have them."

"What I'm saying is, if you ever want to talk to someone who's been there, give me a call."

Regina snorted. "I suppose we could form a support group."

He shot her a hard glare. "Yeah, like that. I know where that snarkiness is coming from. I see it in Dad sometimes. I see it in me." He tossed back the last of the champagne and stood up. "Can you get back to town all right?"

She nodded, but they both knew that was a lie. He offered his hand. She took it, but instead of standing, she blurted, "The only good part about being alone is that I don't wake anyone up when I start screaming at night."

He sat back down. "Tell me about your nightmare."


End file.
